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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486673">The feeling of a blade.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bashful_Bitch/pseuds/Bashful_Bitch'>Bashful_Bitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, Other, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bashful_Bitch/pseuds/Bashful_Bitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick turns to an old bad habit in an attempt to feel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The feeling of a blade.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNING!!</p><p>Rick is not mentally healthy! If you feel like Rick, please speak to a doctor or close friend or family member!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rick was a man who was familiar with a verity of sensations. He had been shot, stabbed, impaled, crushed, and mauled by every single thing imaginable in the universe.</p><p>Were it not for his cybernetic augmentations and incredible ability to create damn near magical healing shit, Rick's body would be littered with scars.</p><p>He had been in bar fights, getting his lights knocked out. Usually he took a few guys down with him! But it cost him a broken jaw and missing teeth.</p><p>He had also been in wars. Felt the hot burn of a laser slicing through his leg. He was very aware of how hot his own blood was as he jammed sharp metal into his exposed femur. He used his new leg to kick in the head of a gromflomite.</p><p>He has felt more physical pain than most people could comprehend.</p><p>And yet, it wasn't a physical pain that was killing him.</p><p>It was the lack of anything. No pain, no pleasure, nothing.</p><p>He had felt like this before, It wasn't the first time. Usually when the emptiness started to set in he'd go out on one of his adventures. Drag Morty from what ever he's doing and get into some mischief.</p><p>But Morty didn't want to travel much these days.</p><p>And he had gotten much better at standing his ground. Rick would have been impressed, if it wasn't such a pain in his ass.</p><p>Even Summer didn't want to go anywhere with him.</p><p>When he saw them take off with Beth in her space ship, he knew why. One of their moms had cool science shit now too. They didn't need him to go on adventures any more.</p><p>Fuck em.</p><p>He didn't need them to do shit! He was more than capable of having a party with out them.</p><p>That's what he told himself as he pulled into an alien strip bar. He had cash of every currency, and he was gonna have a blast.</p><p>He had the capacity to feel incredible pleasure too.</p><p>Tentacles writhing over his body. An inhuman tongue in his mouth. Hard liquor sliding down his throat. Smoke in his lungs. A vaguely humanoid moth twirking in his lap. </p><p>He watched their ass bounce for a bit, throwing back a glowing green whiskey that made him more and more light headed.</p><p>The furry thing had offered a VIP dance, but honestly, he could already tell he wasn't gonna be able to get it up. Not because the moth creature was unattractive to him, but because he couldn't feel anything.</p><p>All things that should have him floating on an orgasmic cloud. And yet, he couldn't feel anything. He knew it wasn't whiskey dick. He knew what it was.</p><p>He tipped her with a $20 and made himself scarce from the bar.</p><p>When he made it back to Earth, he stopped by the 7-11 to grab some snacks. Maybe he could keep his mind occupied by building something in his garage. As he was putting the money on the counter for his Cheetos, he saw a man usher him around the back of the store from the window. </p><p>After a little back and forth, he also ended up grabbing some heroin from a guy behind the dumpster. </p><p>Might as well.</p><p>The sensation of the needle slipping into his vein was like an old friend. He had been well aquatinted with this particular brand of poison in his 30s. He waited for the instant gratification of the drug to kick in.</p><p>It never did.</p><p>The feeling he needed wasn't one he could get in a syringe, or a bottle. It wasn't a tab you put on your tongue, or a smoke you inhaled.</p><p>It was in the saving grace of a razor blade.</p><p>And he needed it now more than anything. Needed the release of the ice cold, numbing pain in that clean cut.</p><p>He barely got his ship in the garage. He had autopilot to thank for that. He was so nervous, but desperate. His hands shook as he pulled the drawer open and grapped the unopened package of razor blades.</p><p>He quickly pulled his pants down to his knees before sitting down. He sighed as he held the sharp metal carefully. For a moment he simply watched the light glint off the blade. It's thin edge and hard steel whispered promise of a soothing ache.</p><p>"... I'm too fucking old for this shit."</p><p>He felt like a teenager again. He can't believe he's being such a pussy about this.</p><p>But the sound of relief he breathes out as the razor slides across his thigh is something he can't un-hear. He needs it. God he needs it.</p><p>As he sliced another line across his thigh, deeper this time, he thinks about Unity. He thinks about Diane. He thinks about Lee.</p><p>Mostly he thinks about Beth. About his little girl he abandoned. He thinks about Morty, his grandson that he has never treated right. He thinks about Summer and how he blamed her for his friends death.</p><p>He thinks about how he can't change. And he slices again. Because he can feel this.</p><p>Because it's all he can feel. It's all he'll allow himself to feel. Because if he ever admits he feels terrible for all the things he's done, it means he still cares. And he doesn't want to care. </p><p>Because caring gets you hurt. </p><p>And Rick can handle any physical pain you throw at him. Don't let him stop to think about how much he loves them. How much he needs them.</p><p>Dont let him think about how empty he feels without them. Cause without them, he feels nothing.</p><p>He didn't want to feel anything. Anything accept the feel of a razor blade.</p>
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